"
"I should like to go with him, sir. He has had a good deal of
experience of the sea, while I have never set foot on board ship till
last year. And after what he did at Lowestoft I should say that any
gentleman would be glad to serve under him."
"That is the right feeling," Prince Rupert said warmly. "Then get
your things transferred to the yacht. If you join Albemarle's Fleet,
Sir Cyril, you will of course report yourself to him, and say that I
directed you to place yourself under his orders."
Five minutes later Cyril and his friend were on board the _Fan Fan._
Scarcely had they reached her, when a gun was fired from Prince
Rupert's ship as a signal, and the ships of the White Squadron shook
out their sails, and, with the wind free, raced down towards the
South Foreland.
"We are to put into Dover," Cyril said to the boatswain, a
weatherbeaten old sailor.
"The Lord be praised for that, sir! She is a tight little craft, but
there will be a heavy sea on as soon we are beyond shelter of the
sands, and with these two guns on board of her she will make bad
weather. Besides, in a wind like this, it ain't pleasant being in a
little craft in the middle of a lot of big ones, for if we were not
swamped by the sea, we might very well be run down. We had better
keep her close to the Point, yer honour, and then run along, under
shelter of the cliffs, into Dover. The water will be pretty smooth in
there, though we had best carry as little sail as we can, for the
gusts will come down from above fit to take the mast out of her.
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